Last Day in the Stocks
by Charis77
Summary: When Merlin agrees to cover for Arthur yet again, neither the prince nor the servant expected it would be the last time. Set in Series 1, sometime after "The Gates of Avalon."
1. Merlin and Arthur

**Author's Note:** I got to wondering about the fact that Merlin ends up in the stocks quite a bit in series 1, but never in any of the other series. This is my filling in the gap about what might have happened to stop Merlin ever going to the stocks again.

* * *

Arthur's week had grown long and boring, a monotonous litany of complaints and crises having resulted in multiple meetings with advisers and nobles and soldiers. When Merlin informed him a messenger had come by to say his father wanted him to discuss some skirmish at the border between Cenred's soldiers and Camelot's knights, he'd despaired. More accurately, he'd thrown a petty tantrum, chucking a goblet across his room. Merlin had narrowly ducked.

"Hey!" he called out. "I'm not the one who wants your backside in the council chamber!"

Arthur, petulant and perturbed, crossed his arms over his chest. "I need to get out of here."

Merlin leaned down to pick up the goblet, grousing inside. When did _he_ ever get a break? Always cleaning or polishing or collecting herbs or scrubbing leach tanks. What he wouldn't give to sit in a meeting for an hour or two.

"Lord Varin has a daughter, doesn't he?"

Merlin looked up from placing the goblet back on the table. "Oh no. I know that look. No. Not again."

"Come on, Merlin."

"Last time you did that you about eloped."

"Last time, I actually cared. This is an excuse."

"Yes, but you'll tell _me_ to make the excuse to your father!"

"If you think of a _better_ excuse, he won't put you in the stocks."

Merlin's sour expression proclaimed the likelihood of that outcome.

Arthur laughed and walked over to him, clapping his shoulder. "Practice makes perfect? Look, you do this, and I'll give you two days off."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Promise."

Merlin considered. The stocks weren't _that_ bad. An hour or two of enduring rubbish and then two days of freedom. He sighed. He could never resist Arthur's cajoling anyway. When he begged like this, he felt more like a friend than a royal, and if anything, Merlin knew friends should be loyal. "All right."

Arthur grinned, swiped some fresh flowers from the vase on the table, and vanished out the door to enjoy a long ride and the company of a woman.

* * *

Merlin steeled himself before entering the throne room. He'd put this off as long as he could. Most of the council had arrived. He drew in a long breath, already rolling his shoulders in anticipation of an hour in the stocks. _Be convincing this time_ , he counseled himself, but doubt undermined his confidence.

Merlin pushed the door open, striding across the room. One or two nobles sent him a cursory glance, then continued their conversations. Merlin paused when he reached Uther standing at the head of the table and bowed.

"Where's Arthur?"

Merlin swallowed. "Erm..."

Uther's brow furrowed. "Don't tell me he wasn't informed."

"He was. At least, he was supposed to be. The message came, about the meeting I mean, but, eh, Arthur wasn't in his room."

Uther pinched the bridge of his nose. "But you were."

"Yes, sire, but I only saw Arthur for a moment this morning and I just, forgot to tell him. He went riding, but I can go find him for you." Merlin stared hopefully at the king.

Uther lowered his arm, and his cold eyes about froze Merlin to his bones. Merlin could feel his wrists already manacled. "When I named you Arthur's manservant, I didn't think I had chosen a simpleton with a memory like a sieve."

"I apologize, sire. I can do better." Merlin dipped his head in submission.

"I'm not sure you can without a little incentive."

Merlin looked up. "Eh..."

"If it were up to me, I'd let you go now, but seeing as you've saved my son's life twice over, I'll be merciful."

Merlin bit his tongue to keep from blurting out that he didn't consider the stocks exactly merciful.

Uther clasped his hands behind his back. "I recall another lapse of memory on your part. Do you know Cenred's men have attacked ours?"

"Y-es," Merlin answered haltingly.

"And this means..."

"Eh..."

"That we might soon be at war."

Merlin stared. His mind whirled back to a conversation several months ago and he gaped.

"Stop gawking like a fish. Guards!"

 _Thank you, Arthur, you selfish prat!_ Merlin muttered sarcastically in his head as heavy hands grasped his arms.

* * *

Arthur smiled to himself as he let go Lady Joye's hand after escorting her back to her rooms. The day had been just what he needed—bright, sunny, and refreshing. Maybe he'd give Merlin _three_ days off, just to show his appreciation.

He sauntered back to his chamber, sighing in satisfaction as he opened the door. He frowned when he discovered no lunch on the table. Ah, of course. The stocks. He chuckled. Merlin must have failed to convince his father again.

Arthur glanced at the fruit bowl on the table. Its contents were mainly fresh, but he spied one squishy peach. He picked it up and made for the hall. He couldn't help but think to poke a little fun at his manservant's expense. He imagined how Merlin would scowl at him, then he'd confess it all a joke and inform his manservant he had an extra day off, and Merlin's face would alight with the grin that reached his eyes, and all would be well between them once more.

Arthur made his way to the village square. He caught sight of the bowed raven head. Poor Merlin. He really shouldn't insist the servant lie for him, but it didn't seem to cost the boy too much. He never complained about it afterward, anyway. Those who enjoyed tormenting unfortunates in the stocks had vanished by now, tired of the game, but they'd left their evidence on his manservant.

Arthur halted several meters away. The solider guarding the stocks nodded to him, and Arthur nodded back, then smiled. The guard didn't return it. Oh, well. Must be one of the stodgy ones his father picked for this kind of thing. He noted several villagers had stopped to stare at him. He grinned cockily at them, then aimed and let his fruit fly. It hit dead on, splattering against the crown of Merlin's head. There was no response. Arthur frowned.

"Oi! Merlin!" he called out.

The head moved, slowly craning up to look. Arthur's eyebrows met in confusion at Merlin's pained features. You'd think he was used to this by now. Arthur approached.

"Crick in your neck? Leg asleep?" he taunted.

Merlin replied quietly. "No, sire."

"What is it then?"

"Nothing."

Arthur turned to the guard, put off by Merlin's mood. "How much time does he have left?"

The guard glanced up at the sun. "Almost done, my lord."

"I'll wait."

"Just go." Merlin's tone brooked no argument.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're sore over this?"

"I'm not."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He turned his attention to the guard once more. "Can't you let him out?"

The guard checked the sky again.

"He's learned the lesson by now."

"Indeed." The guard unlocked the manacles around Merlin's wrists and released the stocks' hold. He held fast to Merlin' upper arm as the servant stiffly straightened. "I will take him to Gaius, my lord."

"Clean up and then come find me, Merlin," Arthur commanded, deciding to tell him in private about the extra day off.

The guard looked at Arthur incredulously, breaking his stoicism. "If I may speak openly, my lord."

Arthur creased his brow, but nodded.

"I do not believe your servant should attend you until tomorrow."

Arthur laughed. "Is that so?"

"Sire." Merlin's voice was quiet, and he patted the guard with a hand as if placating him. "I'll bring your dinner when I can."

"He doesn't know," the guard exclaimed with sudden understanding.

Merlin squeezed the guard's arm in warning, but the soldier glared at Arthur and swung Merlin around. Merlin grappled with him, but the guard won, pulling up Merlin's shirt.

Arthur's stomach dropped at the same time his heart leaped into his throat. Angry red lash marks laced Merlin's back. None seemed to have bled, but it made no difference to Arthur who now noticed the coiled whip attached to the guard's belt.

Arthur recovered himself, putting on the air of nonchalance he'd perfected over the years. "How many?"

"Ten, my lord."

Arthur took this information in. He had seen whippings. Sometimes those in the stocks received them if the crime was heinous enough, but Merlin's supposed transgression shouldn't have warranted this.

Merlin pulled on his shirt and managed to get it back down. "I'm fine. I want to go to Gaius now."

The guard was stayed when Arthur gripped Merlin's arm. "I'll take him."

Merlin made to pull away, but Arthur's grasp became iron as he supported him, moving back to the citadel.

When they reached the privacy of a deserted hall, Arthur stopped. "What happened?"

Merlin actually laughed. "Isn't that obvious?"

"You know what I mean."

"I told your father I forgot to tell you about the meeting, that's all."

"And he..." Arthur gestured at his manservant's back, "ordered this?"

"Well, it's a time of war, you see, or almost."

"A time of war."

"He did warn me. I guess I should have remembered."

"Warned you?"

"Yeah, when you went off with Sophia. He said if it were a time of war and I'd forgotten to tell you about the patrol, then, eh, I'd've been flogged. I thought he was just trying to scare me, but I guess not, huh?"

Arthur didn't return Merlin's smile. "Let's get you to Gaius," he mumbled.

* * *

Arthur remained impassive as he perched on Gaius' bed while the physician looked his ward over. Merlin sat at the table, occupying the same bench as Gaius who had mixed some concoction together, then dipped a cloth into it.

"Berimund did it?" Gaius asked.

Merlin nodded at the name of the guard who had stood watch at the stocks.

"A good man," Gaius muttered. "Uses a more delicate hand when it's needed."

Merlin smiled, then winced when Gaius dabbed the cloth against one of the welts. "Ow. Do you have to press so hard?"

"I'm being as gentle as I can, Merlin," Gaius assured.

"And that stuff stings."

"It'll bring down the swelling."

"But no possibility of infection?" The question came from Arthur.

"No, sire," Gaius confirmed. "There are only minute places of broken skin. Not enough to bleed but a few drops." He looked back at his ward. "You haven't told me how you managed to get yourself into this situation."

Merlin's eyes flicked over to Arthur then back to Gaius. "Forgot to tell Arthur about a meeting with the king."

Gaius tilted his head and his right eyebrow crinkled, a sign he didn't quite believe what he was hearing. "I see. I don't think such a thing deserves a flogging, does it, sire?"

Arthur kept his reply even. "Not usually."

"Then..." Gaius prompted.

"It was just one too many times forgetting, I guess," Merlin explained. "This is _incentive_ to remember."

"Is it?" Gaius asked.

Merlin shrugged and grimaced at the pain the gesture caused.

Arthur stood. "You have the day off, Merlin."

"I don't need it."

"Merlin. Obey for once."

"But, Arthur..."

" _Obey_!" Arthur ordered loudly as he left the room.

* * *

Arthur found his father finishing a late lunch.

"Arthur," Uther greeted, gesturing to a chair.

"Father." Arthur sat slowly down.

"You missed a meeting."

"I'm aware of that."

"I must ask your forgiveness."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh?"

"I should have taken greater care in assigning you a manservant. However loyal your current one is, he doesn't seem to care much about your role as heir to the throne."

Arthur didn't respond. His father thought all those times in the stocks meant Merlin was an inferior influence.

"I can find you another."

Arthur spoke quickly. "He _has_ saved my life."

Uther nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose we can send him away with a reward."

Arthur blinked at the logic. Whip a boy for forgetting a meeting, but then send him away with a reward. "I am sure in time Merlin can improve, especially after today."

"Perhaps." Uther sighed. "You know he had to be flogged."

Arthur nodded tightly.

"I have found that sometimes the whip can teach faster than time."

Arthur balled his fists under the table. "But did his failure merit such a punishment?"

Uther brought his hands together and tapped his lips with his forefingers. "This meeting was vital, Arthur. Cenred is a threat. You have a role in the coming events to prevent war. I needed you here."

Arthur didn't answer, but was already resolving to never miss another meeting again no matter how bored he was.

Uther leaned back in his chair. "If you are willing to put up with him, then he may stay. As you say, he has shown his willingness to protect you even if he isn't so sensible."

Arthur's expression never changed despite his thought that Merlin may have protected him, but he had certainly failed to return the favor.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Arthur snapped when Merlin appeared in his chambers.

"Dinner," Merlin said as he set a tray on the table.

"I told you to take the day off," Arthur protested, rising from his desk.

"I'm not an invalid," Merlin growled.

Arthur stood next to Merlin at the table. "You're not wearing your jacket."

"So?"

"You always wear it."

"Not always."

"Usually."

Merlin fixed him with a "please stop talking about this" gaze. "I'm better," he insisted, moving away to the laundry basket.

"Get out, Merlin."

Merlin angrily stuffed a shirt in the basket. "Stop! Really. Just stop. It's not like it's going to scar or anything. It hardly hurt."

Arthur stomped over to grab Merlin's wrist, forcing him to look at him. "It was my fault."

"I agreed to cover for you."

Arthur let him go. Merlin headed with the basket to the door.

"Merlin," Arthur called after his manservant.

"What?" Merlin asked, his tone exasperated.

"It won't happen again."

Merlin laughed. "Just keep thinking that, Arthur." He left the room, wondering how soon the prince's words would be disproved.

But they never were. The stocks lost their favorite occupant from that day forward.

And years later, when Merlin was hiding the truth once more for the sake of Arthur's vanity, trying to punch another hole in his belt, and he told the king to think of something pleasant, and Arthur replied, "You in the stocks?", he smiled in the midst of his task. And Arthur smiled at himself in his mirror. Because both of them knew such a thing wasn't ever going to happen again as long as they lived.


	2. Merlin and Berimund

**Author's Note:** So I just couldn't get Berimund out of my head, and he forced me to write another chapter to give him his due :-D This second chapter is the POV of Berimund and Merlin concerning the events that take place in the first chapter.

* * *

Berimund had been preparing for his shift at guard duty when a messenger arrived.

"King Uther requests your presence _and_ your whip."

Despite his dutiful nod, Berimund's insides squirmed. He wondered who it was this time. He hadn't whipped someone in a while. The last time a whipping had been meted out, Uther had called for Sirion, a soldier whose rage at injustice fell heavily upon his targets. Berimund was asked for when more tact was needed; Uther had complimented him once on his precision. Unfortunately, this often meant he ended up dispensing justice on those he liked.

Such was the case this day. He entered the council chambers to find Uther about to start a meeting. The king gestured him over to a corner and spoke in low tones. "You will find my son's manservant in the market square. Ten lashes, no more, then two hours in the stocks."

"Yes, my lord," Berimund replied, but his heart had sunk. He knew Merlin. A kinder lad didn't exist anywhere else in Camelot. They'd exchanged pleasantries as the boy traipsed up and down the castle running errands. He'd stood guard more than once when the boy inhabited the stocks, usually because of his forgetfulness. He'd never seen someone endure it with such a good attitude. He was tempted to ask why Merlin had been sentenced to a harsher punishment this time, but thought better of it. The first rule he'd learned as a soldier in the castle was to carry out the king's orders without question.

Berimund made his way towards the castle exit, but stopped suddenly. He turned and ran to the armory where he rummaged through a box of spare parts. He found what he was looking for, then hurried out of the castle. When he reached the market square he saw everything as the king had said: two guards held Merlin's arms as they waited next to the stocks. A crowd had already started to gather. He wished this had been done in private.

* * *

Merlin had been trying to forget where he was. He'd understood what Uther meant when he referred to "a time of war." The king had mentioned a possible flogging a few months ago when he'd lied for Arthur so the prince could spend time with Sophia. He hadn't taken Uther's threat seriously, but he'd been a fool not to.

When another soldier arrived, Merlin woke from his daze, eyes honing in on the coiled whip dangling from his belt. Gaius had treated a man who had been flogged for stealing. His back had been a maze of lacerations, raw and bloody. Merlin's hands began to tremble, and his eyes darted back and forth as he searched for Arthur, hoping beyond hope the prince would show up and stop this farce.

"I can take him from here," the soldier said, grasping his upper arm. Their duty seen to, the guards departed. The soldier lowered his voice. "I'm sorry about this."

Merlin raised his gaze from the whip to the soldier and met unexpected compassion. He knew this soldier—Berimund, a man he'd always found jovial and kind.

"Do you know what to do?" Berimund inquired, his voice quiet and encouraging.

Merlin shook his head.

"I'll open the stocks. You remove your shirt, and then I'll lock you down. I can use manacles if you think you might be tempted to pull away."

"I...think...I'll be okay."

Berimund nodded. "It's only to be ten strokes. After it's over, I'll let you out to put your shirt back on, then it's two hours in the stocks." The soldier moved his hand to his shoulder, directing him behind the stocks.

Merlin scanned the crowd once more as he pulled his shirt over his head, but Arthur was nowhere to be seen. The thumping of his heart sounded in his ears as he leaned over and submitted to being locked down. Berimund appeared before him.

"Here. Bite on this. It helps."

Merlin looked at the leather held in front of his mouth. His cheeks flushed as he realized this was going to happen and nothing would stop it. He opened his mouth and Berimund situated the leather so he could bite comfortably. The soldier walked away, and Merlin caught only a slight movement out of the corner of his eye as Berimund unfurled the whip.

* * *

Berimund rubbed a sweaty palm on his trousers. Why did it have to be this boy of all boys? He didn't think Merlin could possibly have done anything to deserve this. After all, hadn't he rescued the prince twice? Everyone knew how he had been named Prince Arthur's manservant after saving him from an assassin, and then he'd drank poison, too.

Berimund stared at the boy's unmarked back. That he had to mar it burdened his soul. He prepared mentally. He'd be as light as he could and endeavor not to break the skin. He held tightly to the whip handle, aimed, and let the lash fly.

Merlin jolted in the frame, but didn't attempt to flee. In fact, he didn't make a sound. Berimund hoped that meant the leather strip he'd picked up from the armory was helping. Berimund aimed again. The second lash fell parallel to the first, marking the boy's shoulder blades. Merlin jerked again, but less violently, probably anticipating the blows now. Berimund continued, each stripe laid carefully. The boy only grunted on the last few when the number meant he'd been forced to overlap previous wounds.

Berimund rewound the whip and snapped it to his belt, then trudged over to the stocks. He ran an eye over his handiwork and was relieved to discover only a few drops of blood. The boy wouldn't carry any scars.

* * *

Merlin's chest heaved. He'd counted every lash, telling himself with each how many were left. His back screamed as if on fire, but he kept biting down on the leather, squelching any cries. He heard the stocks being wrenched open, then felt a hand on his upper arm again.

"Can you stand?"

Merlin forced himself to straighten and reached up to take the leather out of his mouth. He handed it to Berimund. "Thank you."

Berimund nodded.

"How...bad is it?" Merlin asked as he wiped tears from his eyes.

"Not bad at all. Only welts. You'll heal easily."

Merlin nodded gratefully.

"I'm afraid the regulars have arrived."

Merlin glanced out at the crowd to behold familiar faces with baskets of rotten fruit. Berimund handed him his shirt. Merlin grit his teeth as he tugged it back on, cringing as the fabric brushed the throbbing lash marks. He bowed back over to begin his time in the stocks. Berimund manacled him, then stepped to the side.

 _What I do for that prat_ , Merlin grumbled inside as fruit splattered around his head. Part of him couldn't wait to see Arthur again and throw this injustice in his arrogant face, but a more rational part argued against this. Several months ago, Arthur had risked his own life to find a flower that would save him when he'd been poisoned. That was how Merlin had come to understand how much Arthur really cared about him, because he'd actually defied the father he idolized.

As another projectile popped against his head, dripping liquid down his cheek, Merlin admitted that Arthur hadn't known asking his manservant to cover for him would result in a flogging, and if he had known, he wouldn't have put him in this position. That was why he'd vainly held onto the hope of Arthur showing up to stop it. But the prince was somewhere in the surrounding woods, riding along without a care in the world. And Merlin decided then and there, Arthur would never find out what had happened.

* * *

A few days later, Berimund stood at the top of a flight of steps and knocked quietly at a door. A voice called out. "Come in."

Berimund pushed the door open to see Merlin laying on his bed, a book propped on his chest. "I came to see how you were faring."

Merlin smiled and gestured to the bed as he scooted to a sitting position. Berimund sat down. "I'm all right. Mending well."

"I hope you don't hold it against me," Berimund spoke quietly, though the boy's smile had already put him at ease.

Merlin shook his head. "It's not your fault."

Berimund sighed, remembering how awful he'd felt. Merlin seemed to read his expression and asked an unexpected question.

"Is it difficult having to whip people?"

"Sometimes," Berimund confessed. "When it's people like you."

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. "How'd you get the job?"

"I was the only senior guard available once, and the king observed the punishment. He started calling for me then."

"I'm sorry."

Berimund smiled stoically at the boy's compassion. "Someone has to do it. It's still hard at times knowing you're good at something that hurts others."

"But there is a time for justice," Merlin argued.

Berimund scrutinized the boy for a moment. "Yes, but it wasn't justice for you, was it?" This was why he had come. He'd suspected something was off when Prince Arthur had shown up near the end of the boy's time in the stocks. It had become apparent he hadn't been aware his servant had been flogged. Berimund had taken it upon himself to confront the prince with the boy's wounds, and when Arthur had escorted his servant to the physician, he'd made it his goal to find out why the boy had been punished at all.

Merlin cocked his head warily. "Erm..."

"I don't know exactly what happened, but they say you forgot to tell the prince about a meeting with the king."

"Y-eah."

"You seem to forget a lot when the prince is involved."

Merlin swallowed visibly. "My mind doesn't work very well sometimes."

"Does he make you lie for him?" Berimund asked pointedly.

"What? No."

Berimund tried to read the boy's eyes. He seemed sincere, but... "If you need help, someone to talk to the prince for you, I can."

Merlin laughed. "No. I'm fine. Really, it's fine."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

Berimund slowly stood. "Then I hope never to see you in the stocks again or in need of my services."

Merlin grinned. "Me, too."

Berimund smiled back and left the room, his conscience salved for the time being, but he resolved to keep an eye out for the manservant just in case.

* * *

As it was, Merlin never ended up in the stocks again or under Berimund's whip or anyone else's for that matter. And years later, on a frosty night when one hated to be a guard walking the battlements, Merlin stepped into the cold with a cup of warm ale. He shivered in his jacket as he strode along, but he soon found the man he'd been looking for.

"Here," he said, offering the cup.

Berimund smiled gratefully and took it in his hands, sipping eagerly. He sighed when he lowered it. "Thanks. Got away from the king for a while, I see."

Merlin nodded, stuffing his hands under his armpits. "Private night with the queen." They shared a grin.

Merlin had already decided to stay for a time to keep Berimund company and as he did, his mind thought back to his first couple years in Camelot, to the times he'd caught the soldier watching him. Merlin had surmised Berimund hadn't quite believed that Arthur wasn't setting him up for another fall, and although the man's aid wasn't required, Merlin had found he felt safer anyway.

Berimund finished the drink and handed him the cup. Merlin tilted his head.

"What?" the soldier asked. "Is my armor out of sorts?"

Merlin chuckled. "You look fine. It's just...you were right, you know."

"About..."

"Arthur. He didn't really _make_ me lie for him, but he did ask."

Berimund seemed confused for a moment, then his eyes widened. "I knew it."

Merlin grinned.

Berimund shook his head, then looked contemplative. "That day. The whipping. Is that what stopped your gracing the stocks?"

Merlin bounced on his toes to generate heat. "He told me it would never happen again and it hasn't."

Berimund folded his arms over his chest. "Because he's your friend."

"Friends?" Merlin questioned. "With a servant?" But his eyes twinkled.

"Closest friend," Berimund went on. "And adviser, I'd warrant."

Merlin shrugged.

Berimund leaned against the castle wall. "He needed someone like you. You changed him."

"Maybe," Merlin said, leaning next to him.

"He's not such an arrogant clotpole anymore."

Merlin turned his head in surprise.

"Your choice of address gets around. Don't tell the king."

Merlin laughed. Berimund joined in. And even though Merlin didn't confirm it, he knew it was true. Arthur had changed. And the day he'd been whipped was one of those rare times he could point to an immediate shift in Arthur's character. And he supposed if he had to, he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.


End file.
